Pixie Dust
by Fanatical Alice
Summary: He smells of burning flesh and she plays house with corpses.


**i.**

(_they meet and the unseen stars collide_)

The scent of burning flesh was strong in his nostrils. No matter how far he ran, the smell followed him like the plague. It was hell inside his body. A constant reminder of what he'd done. What _he'd_ done. This time he couldn't peg the blame on anyone but himself.

_(because who else was left?) _

He wandered aimlessly down the deserted streets. Trudging through litter and sludge. Funny. Funny how it was so quiet. Funny how sickness hung in the air, as though just breathing it in would get him infected. Like so many others.

_(dead_)

Gaara never pondered on what the end of the world would be like. Sure, there were countless studies and predictions coming from countless different sources - but he'd never paid much attention. He lived for the moment in his own twisted sense of the term. Whether the 'moment' was beating someone to a bloody pulp or pulling the trigger on a stranger who pissed him off. Or burning an infected little girl.

Gaara couldn't have guessed that it would be this lonely (_but you know you deserve it you know you do)_. Maybe that was it. God was just biding his time. Watching him run through the city like a mouse in a maze. Waiting for him to finally catch the cheese. Z-27.

Waiting for his skin to burst out in zits oozing blood and pus. Waiting for his eyeballs to deflate in their sockets. Waiting for all of his organs to explode, a bloody mess. (_divine punishment for all your crimes you monster_).

Yes. If anyone deserved a slow and painful death, it was him. Gaara wouldn't, couldn't, deny it.

And so he wandered. He walked until the sun fell in the horizon, a watery ball of yellow sadness closing the curtains on another day. The moon didn't rise. It was too cloudy to see any stars. He walked in utter darkness. Breathing in the illness. Waiting for it to invade him. At first the vulnerability screwed him over. Had him shaking in his boots. This wasn't something he could punch out of the way. This wasn't something he could destroy with any weapon. Not even meds could ward it off.

All that was left for anybody was death.

Status, wealth, fame or fortune didn't matter to Z-27. If you had a heartbeat, you died.

Gaara contemplated suicide and getting it over with. It wouldn't be hard to find a gun. Back in his old neighborhood nearly everyone had one, even before Z-27. Either for protection or, like him, for intimidation. It was amusing how humans behaved when face to face with death. Gaara remembered the black joy he felt at watching them wither at his feet, beg him, crawl to him on their hands and knees. Pathetic. Weak. (_just like you are now_)

Suicide. It would be a helluva lot better then dying in agony. And there were so many different options. He could kick open some pharmacy or invade a crack den…there weren't any people around to catch him in the act. And even if there were he doubted that they'd give a rat's ass. Nobody cared about anything anymore. Not family or friends. Money or work. Politics. Crime. Justice.

(_everyone is dead_)

A meteor. A nuclear blast. A massive explosion. Like a Band Aid – rip it right off. Not this slow and painful, drawn out, _wait._ He'd never felt so useless in his entire life. It had to be some sort of joke. Was it all leading up to this point? This disease without a cure? _This_ was where they would meet their end?

Gaara snorted. Because maybe, when you thought about it, maybe this was what they all deserved. Evil wins in this story. Comic books and super heroes are irrelevant.

He wasn't sure how long he would have continued his hike through the city had he not tripped over _her_.

The toe of his shoe caught on an unseen obstacle lying in his path and sent him sprawling. Even as he fell bile rose in his throat. He felt the squish of flesh under his foot. Was it another shredded body? He'd seen enough of them already. But the disgust never left him.

The first time he'd seen a corpse mutilated by Z-27 it had been his very own sister.

_Temari_. Gaara had alternated between throwing up his innards and sobbing for three days straight. During that time period his brother Kankuro got infected to. Gaara buried them in the back yard. There was no more room in the graveyards these days. (_and then you left like the coward you are_)

"_Oww_."

Gaara flinched. He scrambled to his feet and put up his fists.

But the girl – he assumed it was a girl from her curves- lying on the sidewalk didn't look very threatening from his angle.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I should be the one asking that," the girl grunted and the shadows shifted as she stood. "You _stepped _on me!"

He'd done worse. Gaara didn't apologize. "Who are you?"

"Christ you're stubborn. I'm Sakura, if you must know. Mr. Grouch."

Gaara opened his mouth to retort – but his stomach answered for him. The growl was low and threatening. He hadn't considered how long he must've gone without a scrap of food. Something as effortless as 'being hungry' or 'being thirsty' didn't seem to fit in this falling apart world.

He saw a flash of teeth as she smirked. "Come with me Mr. Grouch. You're hungry, right? I'll get you something to eat."

Deciding to take advantage of her offer, Gaara followed her into one of the many alleys, but always on guard. It could easily be a trap. Years of living on the shady side of town had sharpened his senses, but all the same he couldn't imagine _why_ this girl would go to all the trouble. What was the point if they were going to die either way? And what had she been doing sprawled out on the ground?

"So, Mr. Grouch, where do you hail from?"

"Suna," he muttered.

"_Suna_," the girl, Sakura, hummed. "I haven't been there before. Konoha's the only place for me, you see. …Hey! That rhymed!"

Gaara arched an eyebrow at her back.

"What's Suna like?"

"Dusty."

"Wow. Awesome explanation Mr. Grouch. Very realistic," she drawled sarcastically.

Gaara scowled. "What else is there? It's dusty and everyone's dead. Just like this goddamned shithole."

Sakura spun on her heel to face him and he could see her frown in the dim light. "Now, what kind of attitude is that? Mr. Grouch! Mr. Grouch! Konoha isn't dusty. It's _leafy_. Didn't you notice all the trees here? I helped plant some of them you know."

Gaara calmly decided that she'd gone crazy. He'd seen it happen before.

"Now, onward! Food awaits your hungry belly!"

Gaara followed her for another twenty minutes. She chattered absently, not really caring if he was listening or responding to her questions. He got the feeling that she talked to herself a lot.

"…And you'll love my friends. Naruto's kind of a handful, but you'll get used to him. And Hinata's so shy, but she's adorable so it doesn't matter. Ah! Here we are!"

She pried open a rusted door at the back of one of the (_many_) abandoned complexes. Inside was a small room bathed in darkness. He couldn't see the hand in front of him until she switched on the lights.

Gaara's breath caught in his throat.

The smell was even worse then burning flesh. _Rotting_ flesh. Trapped under the damp roof. Crawling inside of him.

Sakura smiled cheerfully. "Hey guys! I picked up a new friend!"

She skipped up to one of the slumped corpses and poked its decaying head.

"Wakey wakey!"

(_the little girl_)

(_her screams_)

(_we're all going crazy insane crazy_)

"Come on guys, straighten up. We have a guest. Geez."

Sakura propped the limp body.

Gaara met its glossy, bead like, eyes.

And promptly doubled over – retching.

(_you've caught the cheese_)

* * *

**ii.**

(_reality isn't pretty or sane, but messy and wonderfully off balance_)

"You know they're dead."

"Of course."

"How did they die?"

"I killed them," she admitted freely, her gaze distant, reliving a memory that would haunt her to the afterlife.

"Why?" his throat burned.

Sakura grinned crookedly. "I watched both of my parents catch the disease. We, Naruto, Hinata and I thought we could run away and escape it all. But then… Hinata… caught it. I…"

"You didn't want to see her go through the same thing," Gaara finished for her.

She nodded.

They were back outside, sitting on one of the many docks. Their legs swung out over the edge. Bare toes skimming the choppy waves. Filling their lungs with the tangy air. Pretending to be alive.

"Did the other one… Naruto…did he catch it?"

Her voice was numb. "No. He saw me … Hinata … and got the wrong idea."

Gaara closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky. Silently glaring at whatever god that was putting them through this. (_they're gone all gone_)

"You don't seem very frightened in the presence of a murderer," Sakura commented absently, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear.

He snorted. "I don't care if you try to kill me."

Her (_cold as death_) hands loosely enclosed his neck.

"_No?"_ she whispered. Her breath whisked across his cheek.

* * *

**iii.**

(_fellow murderers bond – this is what The End does to us_)

It was an unspoken agreement. They would stay together until the symptoms began to show. Secretly, Gaara was grateful for the company. And Sakura was nothing if not interesting. She had a unique point of view. She was honest. And even though she was insane … (_aren't you all?_) And besides – birds of a feather fly together, wasn't it?

They spent a lot of time on the docks, just talking. About family. About friends. About life in general. And about the end of the world.

About that innocent little girl who had big eyes and a piercing scream.

"…You burned her?" Sakura whispered after he finished his story.

He quivered in his sweater. "I burned her. I _killed_ her."

"She was infected. You had no choice."

"A little kid is _dead_ because of me," he growled, clenching his fists.

A narrow shoulder pressed against him.

They sat in silence for a long stretch of time, huddled together. Gaara found himself loosing track of time recently. Days blended into nights, nights blended into days. How many days since he met Sakura? How many nights since Temari and Kankuro bled to death? How many sins since he killed that little girl? Did it matter?

"Sakura?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you a favor?"

* * *

**iv.**

(_they are the last two left on earth. where is the reason?_)

Gaara wanted proof.

Proof of his existence. Proof that his life hadn't been totally pointless. This seemed like a pretty good way to go about it. Who knew that flower planting could actually be kind of soothing? Dig – place seed – replace dirt. And over again. The repeated process let his mind settle. It was the first inkling of peace he'd felt in a long while.

"This was a splendid idea," Sakura said when they met up for luke warm lemonade two hours after dawn.

"I just hope they grow," Gaara sighed.

"They will!" Sakura said confidently. "The faeries will take care of them!"

* * *

**v.**

(_tilting tilting FALLING_)

Gaara woke up with an irritating itch on his left shoulder. He clawed at the skin until it felt raw underneath his fingertips, but the tingle refused to disappear.

"Hey, can you scratch my shoulder?"

Sakura wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Gross."

Gaara rolled his eyes and continued to rub the itchy patch. "Come on. I helped you wash your hair when you sprained your wrist last week."

"Fine, fine," she huffed and put her book down. "Get over here."

He sat down in front of her and heard a sharp intake of breath. His brow furrowed. "…Sakura?"

She didn't speak.

(_no_)

His heart sunk. Further. Further. (_down down down_)

(_yes_)

Scratched his chest.

His knee.

It was as though a million beetles were scuttling beneath the surface.

"I've got it."

A miniscule red zit had formed on his wrist. Trickling blood. Faintly green.

(_so this is what it feels like_)

* * *

**vi.**

(_wave hello to the faeries and bow to the elves and let yourself float on-_)

They were on the roof. Twenty floors above the corpses of her dead friends.

The clouds were fluttering softly across a flawless blue sky.

What a pity. It had taken him this long to realize how beautiful such a simple sight could be. So heartbreakingly beautiful.

Sakura held his hand. Tears flooded the crevices of her gaunt face, but her green eyes were hard as jade. She held the gun firm in her grip. He really admired this pretty pink haired girl. He really really did.

_God. Send this girl to Heaven. Please do. _

That would be the first and last time he ever prayed.

(_lie down_)

(_breathe_)

(_take it all in_)

(_ignore the pain_)

"I'm glad I tripped over you."

"I'm glad there was someone to pick me up," she replied, a tiny grin playing on her lips.

"I didn't exactly help you."

Sakura closed her eyes. "Yeah. You did."

"…What were you doing on the ground, anyway?" A question that he'd forgotten to ask.

She placed a finger gently on his lips. "I was searching for faeries and elves and pixie dust."

"Did you find them?" Gaara whispered.

"No... But I will."

Gaara Sabuku's last words -

"Good luck, Sakura Haruno.

"I'll miss you."

The gunshot was short. A bittersweet release of this cruel, cruel place.

But despite it - he died grinning broadly.

As though he could see all the

(_faeries_)

and all the

(_elves_)

and he was flying on

(_pixie dust_).

* * *

**vii.**

(_the end_)

And far below the dead boy and crying girl, a very tiny, very hopeful, green bud poked out of the earth.

(_or the beginning?_)

* * *

**notenotenote; I do not, under any circumstances, intend to insult your religion or belief's if that is what you get out of this story. While I was editing I was kind of uneasy about it – and so if you find anything offensive then please tell me and I'll apologize properly! And I wasn't quite sure what genre to put this under. It isn't exactly romance, and i'm not entirely sure if it could fall under horror either, so if you have any suggestions i'd be glad to hear them! :) **

**Disclaimer ~ i don't own the Naruto characters**

**Thanks for reading! : )**


End file.
